


The little things

by capeofstorm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeofstorm/pseuds/capeofstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles notices all the little things. It's kind of his thing, even if it takes him a while to mull things through. </p>
<p>(Or, the one where Stiles notices things about his pack and goes after what he always wanted.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The little things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maeve100](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=maeve100).



> First off, thank you for beta and Ameri-pick to intrepidy and raphaellover, you ladies are superstars!
> 
> Second off, happy birthday, Pixie! I didn't forget your birthday, nor the story I promised you. I was trying to be sneaky and give it to you as your birthday gift, so there. Hope you enjoy it!

Stiles is pretty damn observant. Comes with the whole ADHD thing, his mind registering everything there is, noticing small details, noticing big details, working things through at the back of his head even when he’s concentrating on something else, the cogs always turning, always pushing thoughts into his head, always paying attention. It’s both cool and unnerving, the way his mind never shuts up, the way he can never really turn it off completely. Adderall helps, it helps him focus, but once it’s out of his system, all bets are off.

His overactive mind has saved his life many times by now. Hell, his overactive mind has saved the pack so many times that they will never catch up when it comes to the saving your ass score. ...Okay, maybe they will, but Stiles still has an edge on them. He gets extra badass points just for the fact that he’s human and he still manages to save the day. Given, more often than not, his Jeep is the one that actually does the saving, ramming into things (into people, well, supernatural beings, more often than not) and providing an escape. But it’s Stiles that’s behind the wheel, so it still counts. Besides, Stiles and his Jeep are a package deal, even more so than Scott-and-Stiles and _that_ is saying something.

Even when he doesn’t want to, Stiles notices things. Little things that he doesn’t really register until later, when he’s not running high on adrenaline and energy, when he has the time to think and relax because that’s how his bastard of a brain works; always ambushing him when he just wants to stare at the wall and listen to Linkin Park. He’s still a teenager, he’s required to be moody while listening to nu-metal, bite him. Besides, Hybrid Theory was the shit, man.

He sees the way Isaac consciously straightens and raises his head whenever he sees a tall man with sandy hair and glasses somewhere in town, intent on overcoming the instincts his father beat into him. Stiles can’t imagine living like that, being constantly afraid of his father, of his temper. Fathers are meant to protect, to slap you upside the head when you’re being stupid and then soothe the sting with the same hand, mussing up your hair.

He recognises the quick tapping rhythm of Erica’s fingers whenever she’s nervous but trying to concentrate on something else, her fingers going tap tap taptaptap tap. It’s a similar rhythm that he taps out when he’s nervous and he thinks that one day he and Erica should come up with a symphony, record it and put it on YouTube. It would be an instant hit. They could market it as a relaxation CD or something.

He files away the sound of Boyd’s steps when he’s not sure of his welcome, all hesitance and lack of confidence behind his usual reserved mask. Boyd is strangely delicate for someone of his stature – or maybe not strangely, maybe he acts so cautiously because of the way he’s built, like he wants to reassure people that no, he won’t pounce and break every single bone in their body. Which is ridiculous because Boyd is one of the most peaceful people Stiles knows.

He knows how Lydia obsessively checks her makeup in her pocket mirror whenever she avoids any sort of interaction with Peter, even though her makeup is always flawless. He noticed that mirror thing way back in sixth grade when Lydia started wearing makeup. But nowadays the mirror makes an appearance more times in a week than it used to in a year. It saddens him, it makes him worry. It makes him want to reach out to Lydia and ask her if she’s okay. And he would do that if he wasn’t afraid she would tear his balls off with just a single look. They don’t have the best track record of heart-to-hearts, first with him dashing off to get the bestiary and then him pulling the Nice Guy act on her. He’s really ashamed of that one.

He remembers the way Jackson reaches for Lydia, his fingers falling before he touches her, just grazing the material of her dress to reassure himself that she’s there, that she’s real. Jackson still acts cocksure and high and mighty but there’s a vulnerability to him, Stiles can see it more clearly now. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he saw Jackson’s junk that night. Well, let’s just say that Jackson has a _reason_ to be so... cocky.

He sees the way Peter looks at Derek with that hurt look, one part hunger, one part reminiscence, two parts guilt and a pinch of hate. It’s a curious mixture, one that makes Stiles uneasy because he can’t read Peter that well and the sass throws him off his game because it’s just that good. It’s hard for Stiles to keep his chuckles in whenever Peter comments on something and he remembers catching Peter giving him an amused look over that once. If Peter wasn’t so unhinged, Stiles thinks they would be pretty good friends, uniting to fight the ignorance and stupidity of the rest of the pack with their wit and sarcasm.

He notices how Scott is finally giving them his real smiles instead of the faked ones (which he tries so hard to animate with his energy, his mind) . He’s still learning his way around Scott, which hurts because he shouldn’t have to do that anymore. They’ve been friends for most of their lives, they know each other inside out but, ever since Gerard, Stiles has noticed different sides to Scott, ones that make him maybe a little uneasy. Because in the end, Scott didn’t trust Stiles enough to get him involved and it _hurt_. So he’s trying to make sure Scott knows he can count on Stiles. Because let’s be real, those brilliant moments Scott has? Yeah, far too few and far in between. Someone has to be there when Scott decides that licking the inside of a freezer is a good idea again. 

He memorises the way Allison flinches whenever she sees Isaac, Boyd, and Erica, swept away by whatever memory she remembers. He’s happy that she wasn’t there when Gerard beat the crap out of him because he doesn’t know if he could talk to her if she had been. He doesn’t know if he could stand the guilty look, the way her eyes always seem to be filled with tears that refuse to fall even when she’s smiling. It makes him want to forgive her, hug her and tell her it’s okay, but he knows it’s not. It’s not okay and lying about it is what brought them into this situation, so instead he lets her bring him curly fries and Cherry Coke when she starts making amends in any small way she can.

He also knows of the way Derek flinches every time he sees fire, no matter how small. He remembers how Derek stood apart from them when they gathered around Isaac’s birthday cake, the eighteen candles flickering with flames. Stiles was clapping Isaac on the back, telling him to make a wish when his eyes caught Derek, noticed the way he looked at them, the way he edged away from the fire. He knew it’s not something he should comment on so he didn’t. There are a lot of things he doesn’t comment on, actually, believe it or not. Most of them have to do with Derek and the way he and Stiles react around each other. The way in which Derek is all annoyed power but still listens to Stiles, even when his mouth is running off a mile a minute. The way Derek is more animated around him, making actual facial expressions, the way he’s more in Stiles’ personal space than in anyone else’s, the way he’s touching him (mostly slapping him upside the head, shoving him into walls and out of the way of danger but hey, he counts that, he totally counts that).

It’s two weeks after Isaac’s birthday and he’s lying on his bed, ready to fall asleep when the memory of Derek and fire resurfaces, demanding his attention. Now that he’s thinking about it, he recalls more instances of Derek staying as far away as possible from fire. That time Erica talked them into making a bonfire, Derek went to gather wood and made Boyd light the fire, staying away from it, claiming he was warm enough in the chilly January night. Or that time Derek stupidly agreed to let Scott make breakfast for the pack and ended up with a frying pan going up in flames that Stiles had to put out with a fire extinguisher. Hell, the simple fact that Derek had a fire extinguisher in the house spoke volumes – that guy didn’t even have a first aid kit until Stiles purposely bought one and put it in his bathroom. 

The way Derek reacts to fire makes Stiles think of the way he would turn off the radio whenever his mom’s favourite song came on. Or the way his heart would skip a beat whenever someone mentioned the name Elisa in his presence. 

It makes Stiles think that he and Derek aren’t that different in the end. Not on the inside, at least. They both know of loss, of anger and pain and panic and they both try to protect those close to them, no matter the cost. They butt heads because even though they have the same aim, the same desired outcome, their methods are as different as day and night. Derek’s all for action, power and violence and aggressive stances, whereas Stiles is more of a think-things-through kinds of guy, coming up with a plan, going with the flow and hopefully avoiding (physical) confrontation because, c’mon, look at him, he’s not built for it. Sure, they dealt with things differently – Derek with stony silences and overly expressive eyebrows and Stiles with avoidance and running his mouth off a mile a minute. Where Derek is all immovable silence, Stiles is all unstoppable sound. For all intents and purposes they should never collide, not if they didn’t want something unimaginable to happen.

Only the thing is, Stiles is never good about doing what he's supposed to. Forbid him to do something and he will go out and do it – not out of spite, not necessarily, it just happens because well, if it’s forbidden then obviously it’s important and his curiosity needs to be sated. It clearly showed in his decision to take a midnight romp through the woods two years ago, ending with Scott becoming a werewolf. Impulse control is not his strong suit. He’s hoping it will be easier in a few years, hoping he will grow out of his ADHD. But until then, he will blame it all on too little Adderall and the fact that his brain is just special.

That’s what makes him grab the keys to his Jeep and drive up to Derek’s in the middle of the night. This isn’t the first time it's happened, only before there was always a frantic phone call, an urgent text asking him to come over. This time? Yeah, this time it is all Stiles and his curiosity.

Derek’s waiting for him on the porch when he comes to a stop. His hands are crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised in question, his lips pinched with concern. His hair is tousled—Stiles obviously woke him up and it makes him guilty for a second because he knows Derek doesn’t really sleep that much, not since the Alphas left, he’s too keyed up _still_ , hyper vigilant the way Stiles was after Matt. Stiles knows how hard it is to fall asleep, to quiet one’s mind in that situation.

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles climbs out of his Jeep, wondering how it’s possible that even after two years of knowing Derek there always has to be something wrong for him to come to the werewolf.

“Nothing’s wrong, why does something have to be wrong for me to come over, huh?”

Derek scowls at that, uncrossing his arms and leaning into Stiles’ personal space angrily. And okay, the guy has the right to be angry with Stiles at the moment, seeing as Stiles woke him up and all. But that’s not why Stiles’ heart skips a beat, not at all.

“Maybe because it’s one-thirty in the morning, you idiot?”

“Aw, don’t tell me I woke you up from your beauty sleep. Dude, you totally don’t need it, you’re all set for the next three reincarnations.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. It’s one of those things he shouldn’t comment on, the lack of sleep, but it’s too late and well.

Derek huffs as he always does when someone mentions his looks. He leans back, propping himself on one of the pillars, his hip cocked lazily to the side. Stiles takes in his form, the tight wife beater, the low slung, soft pyjama pants, the way Derek’s silhouette looks against the backdrop of the overhead light. His mouth turns dry all of a sudden and he really doesn’t want to stop himself from reaching his fingers, bunching them in Derek’s tight shirt and _pulling_. So he doesn’t.

Derek must be surprised because he allows Stiles to pull him closer, his hands moving to grip Stiles’ arms to prevent himself from toppling over. His hands are really warm even through Stiles’ tee, warming him up and making him think of warm beds and lazy mornings, things he hasn’t experienced yet but wants desperately to experience with Derek.

“What – “

Stiles cuts him off by pressing his dry lips to Derek’s. He lets his mouth open a bit, sucking lightly on Derek’s bottom lip, lapping at it with his tongue. Derek’s hands move to his neck and hip, squeezing tightly as he opens his mouth, his tongue sneaking into Stiles’, licking his palate, tickling him slightly. Stiles lets out a moan, his lips curled up in a smile. Derek can feel it against his lips, pulling away slightly to look at him.

“So that’s what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.”

Derek blinks at him, confused. He doesn’t remove his hands from Stiles’ hip and neck, though. If anything, he grips Stiles tighter, as if making sure Stiles won’t dart away at the first opportunity that presents itself.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and me. You’re the stony, silent Broody McBrooderson who is immovable and I’m me, the goofball always in motion, the unstoppable force. You’re afraid of fire and I’m afraid of drowning and we’re similar on the inside but we react differently and we call each other out on our shit and we get along well when you’re not being all secretive and when I actually stop to think things through.”

Derek’s hands feel warm against his cheeks where they frame his face. Derek’s got that half annoyed, half fond look he sometimes gives Stiles when he thinks Stiles isn’t paying attention (ha, as if! Constant Vigilance!) and it makes Stiles grin at him.

“I think it says a lot about my mental health that what you just said made sense.”

“Of course it made sense, duh. I said it, so it made sense.”

Derek rolls his eyes at that, his thumb swiping at the tender skin on Stiles’ cheekbone. Derek’s thumb feels soft against Stiles’ skin, and he’s a bit disappointed that Derek doesn’t have calluses. He looks like the type of guy who likes working with his hands, the type that’s all wood and paint and motor oil. Then he remembers werewolf healing and it makes sense, he thinks. If his body can close up after a bullet wound without leaving a scar then it can definitely do away with a few calluses.

“This is why you came over at one-thirty in the morning on a school night?”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, his hands moving to rest on Derek’s waist. His fingers squeeze lightly because he can and because he wants to. 

“Seemed like the thing to do, y’know.”

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” Derek says, his hands moving to take Stiles’, their fingers tangling together without a thought or awkwardness. They fit in a way Stiles always thought they would and it makes his heart skip a beat, again.

“Whoa, whoa, we just kissed for the first time, I’m not that kind of boy, Derek Hale. I’m respectable, you will have to wine and dine me before I jump into bed with you. I expect a lot of gifts and make out sessions and walks on the beach and rose petals – “

Derek’s warm hand covers his mouth to stop him from babbling. Derek’s smiling slightly, just a small upwards turn of his lips but it changes his whole face. He looks different, nearly like another person and it’s unsettling because Stiles is so used to the scowls and impassive looks, but he thinks he can get used to this new Derek, the way he smiles, the way it makes him look, well, happy. Or content, at least. But Stiles will work very hard on making sure that he will put a happy smile on Derek’s face in the future. He’s planning on so many happy smiles that the scowling, impassive mask will be the one that looks unnatural to Stiles.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I can’t let you drive home at this hour. You’re going to sleep in the guest room.”

Stiles makes a disappointed sound in his throat because well, he’s not all that respectable, really. He’s quite easy, at least when it comes to Derek. Derek takes his hand away from Stiles’ mouth slowly, his fingers brushing against Stiles’ lips, making them tingle like crazy.

“I’ll stay if I can sleep with you.”

“Stiles – “

“Get your mind out of the gutter, sour wolf. Sleep as in REM sleep phase and all that jazz. And cuddling. Because I like to cuddle and I bet you’re a cuddler, too, underneath all that masculinity and leather. You look like you give good hugs and that’s step one, trust me. So we’re going to work on your cuddling skills because I expect a lot of cuddling, too. Before sex, after sex, without sex, whatever.”

Derek laughs, all low and intimate, sending shivers down Stiles’ spine as he leads Stiles to his bedroom. Stiles trots behind him happily, their fingers tangled together.

“Fucking finally! Though if you have sex, give us notice so we can get out,” Isaac’s voice comes from behind a closed door when they walk past his bedroom.

Stiles refuses to blush because he and Derek? Yeah, they’re kind of a big deal and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He notices the way Derek looks at him, all amusement and teasing and it makes him grin back.

“You might want to move to Scott’s full time, then,” he shouts through the door of Derek’s bedroom because why the hell not.

The look Derek gives him this time? It’s all heat and sensuality and it makes Stiles shiver even as he catalogues it at the back of his mind, promising everything Stiles wanted. Did he mention patience wasn’t his strong suit?


End file.
